Redemption
by DefyGravity18
Summary: Set after 2.09. Emma has to find Baelfire when Gold redeems the favor Emma owes him. Meanwhile, the citizens of Storybrooke are unaware of what is coming.
1. Chapter 1

**This is just going to be a couple of chapters. Something to hold me over until January 6th. 25 days!**

* * *

Let's see, where was I one year ago today? Early December…it was right around the time that Graham—

I can't. I can't think about that right now. Every time I do, I feel guilty. I feel like I should have done more to help him. Believe him. Save him. Some savior. Did I see some white picket fence future with the guy? No. But he was a good person and he deserved a lot better than what he ended up with.

I want to believe Regina is trying to be better for Henry, but I still don't. That darkness in her eyes is still there, lying beneath the surface. I see good in her, screaming to get out, but she's trapped within herself. And it's really not up to me to save her. Only she can do that.

At least I can take solace in the fact that, even though I was gone for weeks in – whatever that place is called – Fairytale Land, I guess, nothing has changed here. There's still paperwork to be done at the Sheriff's office. My badge is back on my belt where it belongs and David actually did a pretty decent job at keeping the place in one piece. I know I owe him a huge thank you, but I'm dreading that conversation, because he's going to want some tear soaked reunion talk. And I'm not really ready to have a Daddy-Daughter talk with a guy who is the same age as me.

I'm not the little girl he lost.

Maybe that's why I'm scared. Because I think David is going to realize that I'm just some broken woman with abandonment issues. I think I'm afraid he's going to resent me. Maybe that's irrational…it probably is, but what can I do? I don't know how to be someone's kid. I don't even know how to be an adult.

"You alright Emma?" David's voice cuts into my thoughts, making my head snap up from the file I'm not reading.

"Huh?" I mumble, making him grin a little.

"You, uh…you were chewing your lower lip. Your – um – Snow does that too. It must be a family thing," He replies, looking awkwardly at his feet, before grabbing an opened box off of his desk. "Donut?"

"You know, you're only furthering a stereotype," I joke, managing a small smile and accepting a chocolate frosted, "If I start to grow a gut and a mustache, you better stop me."

"Will do," David nods, setting the box aside and sitting at the Deputy desk with a glazed donut.

"So, uh…" I begin, unsure of what to say but needing to fill the silence, "Thanks…you know, for keeping everything together and…" I gesture around the office to make my point. I really do suck at this.

"Of course," David says, taking a bite of his donut while I stare at mine. It falls silent again.

_Please don't try to have the talk. Please don't try to have the talk…_

"Emma, we need to talk," His gentle voice says a moment later. _Damn, so close._

"David, please don't—"

"No, Emma," He sighs, pleading with his big puppy dog blue eyes, "I have to. It's been a week since you guys got back and I've really been trying to give you your space, because I know this family stuff isn't your thing." He winces slightly, "Sorry about that."

"I don't blame you," I assure him, taking pity on the poor bastard. "I would have done the same thing were it Henry…hell, I _did. _And I handed him right off to Regina."

"You did what you thought was best for your child," David says comfortingly. I feel my face fall a little and see the panic in his eyes as he tentatively reaches for my hand. I don't pull away, but I do jump a little at the touch.

"I didn't really have a choice, you know?" I admit, feeling like I'm betraying myself by confessing one of my darkest secrets. I haven't even talked to Mary Margaret about this. I haven't even admitted this to _myself._ "I had three months left to serve. I had no money. No family. Nowhere to live. I got to hold him for two hours and then he was gone." I can't make myself look at David, because I know I'm embarrassing myself, but it feels good to get some of this off my chest. Someone has to know the truth. It might as well be David. "I told them to seal the records…I didn't want him to find me. I didn't want to know him, because I was so terrified that he would feel the same way I always had. But they assured me that he had a home. What could I say? I never had a home. I was three when the foster family sent me back after their real baby was born."

"What?" David asks in a hushed, horrified voice. "They sent you _back?"_ I can only shrug in response. What can I say? I didn't make it up. "How do you take care of a baby for three years and just give it _back?"_ He mutters acidly, cursing under his breath. My eyes fall to my hand, which is covered by his. I hadn't even realized he'd placed it there, but I turn my palm up and squeeze his.

"Screw 'em," I sigh, "I don't remember them anyway." It's the ones after that I remember all too well. But that is not a story for now. "She showed me the nursery, you know," I change the subject swiftly, letting go of David's hand and reaching for my donut. "I saw the cradle and the beautiful toys and the wardrobe…" I trail off, thinking of those ripped pages that I tossed into the fire from the end of Henry's book. Prince Charming fought off the Evil Queen's henchmen one handedly while cradling his newborn daughter in the other arm.

Me.

It still doesn't seem possible, but as I stare into this young man's eyes, I can certainly see Prince Charming, but I also see the young husband and father, willing to die for those he loves.

_Me._

Snow White and Prince Charming were honorable in their decision to give up their baby. I was forced into giving up mine because some jerk set me up to take the fall for a crime I didn't commit. Not that I'm innocent…quite the opposite in fact. But I always trusted my instincts…until Neal. The only time I ever allowed myself to get close to someone, it blew up in my face.

"She told me," David says in a clipped voice, sounding dangerously close to something that might be tears. I'm not good with tears.

"I can't be your little girl, David," I sigh, biting my lip, "I know you want that and I'm never going to be that."

"You think because you're grown you don't matter to us as much as you would have had we raised you?" His voice is thick, but also full of shock. His blue eyes are dark. "I don't care about having a little _girl_, Emma. What I care about, and what Snow cares about, is _you._ Plain and simple. _You_ are our daughter. _You_ are what matters to us. It has nothing to do with raising a little girl. All we ever hoped for was the chance to _know_ you…and that means the woman you _are, _not the child you _were._" In a way, I want to burst into tears and throw my arms around him and thank him, but I don't. It's not in me. I swallow the giant lump in my throat and I nod.

"Okay," I agree, blinking quickly to mask the betraying sheen of tears in the corners of my eyes, "But can I ask you a question?"

"Anything," David answers earnestly.

"Charming? Really? I mean, I know they said your name was James, but…"

"James was my brother," David laughs, looking surprised and relieved, "I never knew him, but when he died and I took his place, I also took his name. I'm afraid the truth is rather boring. My real true given name is…David." He shrugs sheepishly, "Truth be told, I'm relieved. It's a little less confusing for all of us. Especially when you have a wife with two names in _both_ worlds. Snow White. Mary Margaret. Could Regina be less original?"

I burst out laughing, glad for the angst reprieve, shaking my head and almost missing the figure silhouetted in the doorway. I absently reach for my gun, snapping my head to the side and find myself scowling.

Gold.

"May I help you?" I inquire dryly, standing and folding my arms across my chest. He gives me half a smirk.

"I hope so," He grins, "I've come to redeem that favor."

David is on his feet in an instant, moving to stand next to me. I appreciate the gesture, but I know I'm not in any danger here. Now. A week ago...maybe. Considering he tried to kill me and Mama Snow.

"What favor?" He asks, looking inquiringly at me. I shrug, trying to pass it off as no biggie…except now that I'm a believer and Mr. Gold is definitely the creep who makes deals that people can't refuse. "Oh Emma…" He sighs, shaking his head, "You _didn't."_

"I had to," I explain in defeat, moving around the desk, "I did it for Ashley."

"Ashley?" David looks confused. Probably because he was still out cold at the time. Don't make me say it, Pops…

"Cinderella, I believe," Gold chimes in for me with a twinkle in his eyes. "And, to be fair Miss Swan, she sought me out, dearie. It wasn't the other way around." Before I can insert a biting comment, he's going on, "The favor I am in need of…" He continues, changing the subject to his purpose, "Miss Swan, your history as a bail bondsman—"

"Person," I correct curtly, noticing David smirk in surprise.

"Apologies," Gold nods, "Bail bonds_person._ I need you to find someone for me. I would do it myself, but with the tiny border issue, this is impossible."

"Border issue?" I question, looking to David for confirmation. He nods.

"Anyone who crosses the border that was affected by the curse loses their true memories again. Tom Clark stepped over and lost all of his memories," He explains. At my look of confusion, he clarifies. "Sneezy."

"Oh, _great,"_ I mutter, rubbing my temples. "More curse breaking…okay, Gold. Who's the guy?"

"My son," He responds without hesitation. It's the first time he's said anything that wasn't cryptic to me. He _really_ wants to find his kid. Gold never says anything without an underlying motivation. He's just putting it all out there. "Baelfire," he adds, making me give him an incredulous look.

"Baelfire?" I ask dryly, resisting the urge to sigh heavily. "Okay, let's see…do you have a nickname? Because I don't think Baelfire's out there going by Baelfire Smith, ya know?"

"I called him Bae," Gold offers, extending his arm out toward me to give me the folder he's holding. "I have this." I take it and open it, revealing a really _really_ old piece of parchment paper with a drawing of a boy on it. Skeptically I glance up at Gold.

"A drawing? This is what I have to go on? The name Baelfire and a drawing of a kid," They say nothing as I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, before looking at the drawing again. "You know they can't do age progression on this, right? How old would he be?"

"He was fourteen when he fell through the portal," Gold tells me calmly, "But there's truly no telling. He fell through time and space. Can you find him or not?" Still staring at the drawing, I nod.

"If he's here, I'll find him. I always find what I'm looking for," I mutter, thinking of the one person I haven't found yet and scowling before I push the thought out of my head as always. "He reminds me of Henry," I muse, meeting Gold's eyes. "That's why you're so fond of the kid, aren't you? He reminds you of your son."

"Perhaps," Gold agrees.

"So, you're really going to do this?" David asks, looking between us worriedly. I hope he's not going to try to pull some parental bullcrap on me.

"Yep," I tell him, daring him to forbid it. "This is what I do, David. I find people for a living and hunt them down."

"Gods, you _are_ his daughter aren't you?" Gold chuckles, giving David an approving look. "She takes after you."

"Enough pleasantries," I interrupt, "I'm gonna need a little more than a sketch and a name."

"I thought you might," Gold agrees, "I think your friend August may be able to help. Recently, he falsely led me to believe that _he _was Bae, but I think we both know he's not."

"August?" David asks, bemused.

"I think you know him better as Pinocchio," I groan, cringing for what seems like the thousandth time today.

"Pinocchio? Geppetto's kid?"

"Yep," I affirm, shaking my head. "Why am I not surprised? He actually pretended to be your kid? What's the damn name again?"

"Baelfire," David reminds me in his gentle way, all the while staring daggers at Gold.

"He knew about the power of my dagger and its ability to control me," Gold pauses, "Unfortunately for him, it has no power in this world. He wanted my help with his…condition."

"Son of a bitch," I breathe. "So, where is he?"

"I'm going to wager a guess that if anyone has seen him, his father has," Gold suggests. I squint, thinking of Marco, who used to be Geppetto, who lives near the woods. Appropriate. "I'll look into it," I promise, "But, I'm telling you Gold, this is like looking for a needle in a haystack. How long has Baelfire been missing?"

"Well," He seems to contemplate this for a moment, "before the curse, it was leaning toward three hundred years." He doesn't even have the decency to look humble as he says this, while I have to grip the edge of my desk to keep from knocking David over like a bowling pin.

"Perfect," I retort tiredly.

I guess I shouldn't be surprised when August is the first thing I see upon pulling up in Marco's driveway. He's sanding something that looks to be a rocking chair, but I am. I don't know why, but I half expected August to split as soon as the curse was broken. I can't deny the relief I feel at the sight of his human face, covered in stubble as always. It warms me inside, as I get out of the car in the lightly falling snow and nod to David.

"He was just a little boy," David shakes his head, "This isn't possible…"

"I was a newborn," I point out, meeting him around the car as we walk toward the open garage workshop. I know David wants to say more, but I don't give him a chance. "Hey, puppet!" He starts and whirls toward us, brightening instantly as his face melts into a beaming smile.

"Hey yourself, Princess!" He grins, moving toward me with his arms open and pulling me into a crushing hug.

"Glad to see you're all fixed up again," I pull back, sobering. "I need a word."

"Uh oh…" He nods politely at David and waves us toward the door inside the workshop. "Come on. Let's have a drink."

"Sounds great," I concur enthusiastically, following him inside.

"So, what can I do for you two?" August asks, pouring equal amounts of whiskey into three glasses. I'm more of a vodka gal, but whatever. Booze is booze.

"I'm looking for someone you apparently know or know of," I tell him bluntly, cutting right to the chase. He looks at me, blue eyes intrigued as he takes a sip.

"Oh yeah? Who's that?"

"Baelfire."

August spits out his drink. Violently. He's even a bad liar when he _doesn't_ talk.

"As in, son of Rumpelstiltskin?" He coughs, making me thump him on the back a few times until he gets control over his shit.

"The very same," David mutters, taking a swig and wincing as it goes down. I just stare at the amber liquid.

"How do you know about him?" August asks carefully, watching me with suspicious eyes.

"Don't you play that game with me, Pinocchio!" I warn, "I know about your little charade. What the hell were you thinking trying to pull one over on Mr. I-Steal-Babies-For-A-Living?"

"I _wasn't_ thinking, Emma," August tells me honestly, "I was panicking. You remember…I was terrified! I would have done anything."

"Pretending to be a psychopath's son?" I give him a pointed look, "_Not_ smart, August."

"Yeah, yeah…" He mutters, taking a sip.

"So, do you know where this guy is or what?" I ask, finally taking a sip of the harsh, warming liquid. I savor the feeling as it makes its way down, spreading warmth through my body. His eyes darken for a moment, and I can see that he knows. Or he did once. But either way, he's closer than I am. He's at least _seen_ Baelfire (seriously what the hell kind of name is that?).

"Last I heard, he'd moved to New York and was going under the name Jack Barrie. I don't have an address," He admits, though the tick in his jaw tells me otherwise. He knows I can see past his Bullshit judging by the guilt in his bright blue eyes.

"August, I owe you a lot, okay?" I start, playing no games with him, "You got me off the side of the road to safety. I'd probably be dead if not for you, so please just cut the crap alright? Where is Jack Barrie?"

"What do you mean?" David inserts authoritatively, his eyes narrowing.

"Not now," I cut him off, shaking my head and turning my burning gaze back to August. "So?"

"I don't _know_, Emma. I swear," He puts his hands up defensively; "You can ask his foster mom. That's the only number I have for him. Her name is Maggie Crowe."

"Okay, question," I stop him again, "Are you _sure_ this is him? I mean, you pretended to be…what's to say this guy isn't a liar too?"

"He's not. I just know, okay? Let's just leave it at that," His voice is short, sullen.

"And he's in New York," I reaffirm, watching him nod and finish off his drink. Pulling out a notepad I quickly scribble _NYC: Jack Barrie._ "So, what's her number?" I ask, pulling out my cell. August's eyes widen in surprise.

"What, _now?"_

"Uh, _yeah…"_ I huff impatiently, rolling my eyes. "I kind of want to get this over with so I can, ya know, go on living my life." I can't help but snicker at the surly look on his scruffy face as he pulls out his wallet and withdraws a business card with a number scratched on the back of it.

_CLEANERS & HATTERS._

I gingerly take the old business card and turn it over, quickly dialing the phone number and praying for the best. A young man answers.

"Hello?"

"Hi, I'm calling for Mrs. Margaret Crowe," I say in my most Sheriff-like voice.

"Grams!" The guy calls, "Telephone!" I ignore the questioning looks of both August and David and stare instead at a scratch in Marco's kitchen table while August pours himself another drink. A moment later, a woman comes on the line.

"Hello, Maggie speaking," A shockingly British woman answers, sounding like the second coming of Julie Andrews.

"Mrs. Crowe," I begin, biting my lower lip, "My name is Emma Swan. I'm the Sheriff of Storybrooke, Maine. I'm looking for a man and was given your name as a possible contact for him."

"You're calling about Peter, aren't you?"

"Peter?" I ask, frowning up at August, who shrugs. "No, I'm looking for Jack Barrie."

"Is that what he's going by now?" She sighs, sounding worried. "Is he in trouble again?"

Again?

"No," I assure her, "I'm…uh…an old friend."

"I see," She falls silent for a few achingly long moments. "Look, Ms. Swan. Peter's not a bad boy, he's just misunderstood. He's had a rough time, but he's really turned it around."

"I understand, Mrs. Crowe," I swallow, "I too was raised in foster care. I spent some time in jail. I'm not out to get him. I just need to speak to him. It's kind of important."

"I believe you, Ms. Swan. Don't ask me how, but I have a genuine gift at judging peoples' intentions. And I do believe you mean well. So, I'm going to give you the telephone number he gave me to call him at." Reluctantly, she tells me and I scrawl it on the same business card her number is scratched on. "Look," She goes on, "If you find him, please tell him to call me and tell him that I miss him very much. He's very special to me."

"I…I will," I swear, "Thank you for your help, Mrs. Crowe." We hang up and I let out a long exhale, staring at the phone number in silence.

"Well?" David presses, eager for information. I shrug.

"She called him Peter," I murmur, looking once more at August. "Are you positive it's—"

"It's Baelfire," August nods. "He showed up in London, and Margaret took him in. He was getting into some trouble over there, stealing, so Maggie and her husband decided to move here to the States for a fresh start for him."

"Jesus," I moan, finishing my drink in one burning swig. "I guess I'd better call him."

"Emma, it can wait," David tells me, placing his hand on my arm.

"No, David," I sigh, "The quicker I get out of this deal with Gold, the better. I just want to move on with my life and spend time with Henry without worrying."

"Did you figure out how to get rid of Mommie Dearest?" August quips, raising an eyebrow. He's obviously referring to Regina.

"Shut up, puppet," I snap, smacking him in the arm. The truth is, I don't know if I want Regina out of Henry's life. Yes, she is a sociopathic control freak with extremely low self-esteem, but she raised Henry from birth. He loves her in his own tentative way. She terrifies him, yes, but the fact is that she is still his Mom. And even though that title has been extended to me too as of late, it kills me, because I wanted him more than I wanted anything. So, like it or not, Regina and I are both in Henry's life…and I sure as shit am not going to start a weird pseudo-lesbian marriage with her to keep him. Before I have time to think better of it, I'm dialing Jack Barrie…or Peter…or Baelfire's number. Whatever.

"Barrie," The deep, husky voice comes over the line. So, definitely not a fourteen year old kid. I don't know if that's good or bad.

"Mr. Barrie…my name is—" August is shaking his head vigorously at me with huge eyes, "—Mary Margaret Blanchard," I finish lamely, gesturing helplessly at a horrified David.

"What can I do for you, Miss Blanchard?" Barrie asks, giving me the sickening sensation of Déjà vu.

"I was actually hoping you could help me find a friend of mine," I lie, wanting to bash my head against the table. "I'm looking for August Booth and I will be in the city tomorrow. I could stop by your place if you would be open to—"

"Look, sweetheart," He cuts in, "I haven't seen August in over a year."

"Um," I draw a blank. Maybe time to go for the shock value. "Okay, here's the deal buddy. I know who you are. I know where you're from and I need to find you."

"Listen lady," His voice becomes more biting, "I don't know what game you're playing, but if you think you have something to hold over me, I—"

"Your father's looking for you," I blurt, feeling my face turn a violent shade of red. I can feel the surprise radiating from within the phone.

"Who _is_ this?" His hushed voice finally murmurs. I sigh.

"My name is Emma Swan," I explain, "I'm the Sheriff of a town called Storybrooke in Maine." There is a silence, and I can hear him take a long breath.

"Emma…?" He whispers, sounding oddly relieved and slightly sick all at once.

"Emma, _no!"_ August hisses, looking terrified as he stands and rips the phone out of my hand. Before I can react, he's ended the call.

"What the hell, August?!" I cry, bounding out of my seat and lunging for my phone. "I was getting somewhere."

"This isn't like when you were on your own tracking people, Emma!" August insists, "You have a family to think about. You don't give out your real name!"

"He's right, Emma," David nods, holding me back so I can't murder August Wayne Booth. "Come on," He urges, "That's enough for today. You're tired. Let's go home."

"Relax!" I mutter, pulling away from him in irritation, "People can't find Storybrooke. It's one of the perks of Regina's weird Harry Potter unplottable town." I snatch the phone out of his hand and hit redial, pointing to my gun as I do to indicate that I will shoot if August pulls anything.

"Hello?" The voice answers again, more hesitant this time and full of what can only be hope. Maybe he's open to a reunion with Dear Old Dad after all.

"Hi. Emma Swan again. Sorry about that! Lost signal. Small town living. What can ya do?" I crack, hoping he's not going to hang up on me. "So, can you help me or not Mr. Barrie?"

"Depends," Barrie's wounded voice answers, "How do I know this isn't a trick? My father and I have been separated for a very, _very_ long time, Miss Swan. For all I know, he's dead."

"You can decide for yourself whether he's for real or not, Mr. Barrie," I return shortly, "And here's the thing…you can come with me willingly or…"

"Or?"

"I force you," I finish casually, rolling my eyes at both August and David's dual expressions of horror.

"Ya know, some people don't want to be found, Emma," Barrie confesses quietly.

"Yeah well, _some_ people don't care," I point out, "And I _will_ find you, _Baelfire_."

"I don't doubt it," The man chuckles. "Okay Emma, I'll play. But, only if you come and get me. And make me one promise," He continues, making me bristle with frustration.

"And what would that be?"

"You have to promise me that you will keep an open mind and let me say what I have to say when you get here. Deal?" Something in the way he says that sends a chill up my spine, but I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. It's a few hour drive. I can be back by tomorrow night if I leave in an hour.

"Yeah. Deal," I agree, ignoring David's look of concern. "But if you give me any trouble, I will take you down, Mr. Barrie. Am I clear?"

"Clear," He agrees, quickly telling me where he lives so I can find him. We hang up and David is arguing with me before I can even press 'END'.

"You're not going to New York by yourself," He asserts, folding his arms as I calmly take my glass to the sink and rinse it out.

"David," I begin as patiently as I can manage, "I have to. Nobody can leave except for me. I have to do it alone. It's not worth losing your memory over."

"I'd choose losing memory over losing my daughter any day of the week, Emma," He murmurs gravely. Sighing, I set the glass down and walk silently over to him, carefully wrapping my arms around his middle and placing my ear against his chest. I can tell he's taken aback by the way his arms come up and hesitantly settle around me.

"You're a really great guy, David," I tell him, unable to hold back a small smile even though my eyes are suddenly burning like a bitch, "And I love you for worrying about me. But I'm a big girl. This is nothing compared to the dirtbags I've chased down."

"I'd really feel better if somebody went with—"

"I'll go," August sighs, giving me a look of defeat. "I'll go with her." I turn to him in surprise.

"You will?"

"Yeah, this is my mess too," He mutters, "I can't make you clean it up on your own."

"Well, let's get it over with then. If we leave in an hour, we can be there by midnight," I insist, pulling away from David and putting my hands in my coat pockets.

"Damn," August curses, reaching for his coat. At my questioning look, he chuckles mirthlessly, "I have to cancel my date this Saturday. I'll have to swing by the diner before we go." I roll my eyes, grabbing David's arm and heading out to the car.

"Be at Mary Margaret's in twenty minutes," I instruct, "Pack light."

David and I are halfway home when he laughs suddenly, making me jump out of my blank thoughts and stare at him in mild panic.

"What?" I ask moodily, watching his eyes twinkle with mischief as we come to a red light.

"I'll let you tell Snow what's going on," He informs me smugly, smirking. I grip the steering wheel, turning my eyes back to the road and try not to sag in my seat.

_Shit._


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm surprised with the response I got for this. I actually apologize if it feels a little rushed. This was originally meant to just be a quick oneshot that's kind of developed into a little story. I don't really know how long it's going to be. But really, thanks to all of you who are reading and reviewing and alerting and all that fun stuff. Feedback is always great. **

* * *

Mary Margaret doesn't take the news well. Okay, that's an understatement…she throws a tantrum to end all tantrums, and if looks could kill, Dear Old Dad would be D.E.A.D. I've slowly come to realize that Mary Margaret and Snow White are two _completely_ separate animals, and Mommy has a temper. A bad one. I sit at the counter, closely examining a fork while David attempts to soothe Mary Margaret after banishing poor Henry to the bedroom. (Of course, we all know the crafty little sneak is probably standing in the hallway listening to every damn word.)

"You're not going," Mary Margaret repeats as she's been doing for the better part of ten minutes, furiously sautéing vegetables in butter for the Fajitas she's making for dinner. Meeting her husband's eyes, she glares into them, "She's not going."

"Snow…" He sighs pleadingly, trying to placate her and, to his credit, trying to support me all at once. Poor guy would have never survived raising me.

"_No!"_ She cries shrilly, piercing me to the core. It's not the cry of someone who is angry. It's the cry of someone who is _terrified. _That's when I see it. She's not being stubborn, obstinate Snow White. She's a worried mother. Which only makes me feel like pure crap, given what we just went through together. "Please," Her eyes turn to me, imploring me, "Emma, we _just_ got home. We've barely spent any time with you."

"Mary Margaret…" I begin, setting the fork aside (it hasn't changed in the last ten minutes) and moving around the counter to her. She gives me a strange look, but shakes her head as if scolding herself. I take her hands, "I will be back by tomorrow night. Okay. All I'm asking for is twenty-four hours. One day."

"I _can't,_" Mary Margaret says desperately, "What if something happens?"

"I'll have August and his stubble to protect me," I quip before darkening, "Besides, I made it on my own for twenty-eight years…I'll be okay for one day." Her eyes fill to the brim and panic begins to thrum throughout my body, making my fingers twitch. I'm torn between the urge to flee and the urge to pull her in for a hug. I choose the latter. "I will call you every hour on the hour, you crazy, over-protective badass." Laughing, I pull back and look into her eyes, which are identical to mine. I can't believe I never noticed before. I can't bring myself to look at David, who also has suspiciously shining eyes. "Come on, you guys…don't do this to me," I groan, looking between them. "After this, I promise no more road trips."

"We're not trying to tell you what to do, Emma," David interjects, "Obviously we know that those days are long gone. But, you need to know things have changed, kiddo, and you will be missed dearly."

The reaction is involuntary and instantaneous. Seemingly of its own accord, my face crumples and I burst into ugly tears, burying my face in my hands. At once, I surrounded on each side by a parent. This is embarrassing as hell, and I'm sure not given to random outbursts of emotion. The walls I've so painstakingly built around my heart are not just coming down, they're being crushed by the overwhelming love that just pours out of these two all the time. I love it and hate it all at once. But I allow the contact, because even though my mind is screaming at me to get the heck out of this emotional train wreck, my heart wouldn't allow it if I tried. Maybe I have two different selves too. I sigh resignedly and give into it.

"Come on, Henry," I give a watery laugh, "I know you're over there. Get in here." Three seconds later, he crashes into my front, wrapping his arms around my waist. I bury my face in his hair, smelling the baby shampoo he still uses , and I smile despite being both heartbroken and ecstatic. I love him. I've never been so sure of anything, but I love him more than I've ever loved anything and it scares the living crap out of me. Everything I do, I do for him…even if it means getting this favor for Gold out of the way so I can start living my life with him.

The knock at the door brings us out of family bonding time, which is kind of a relief. I'm slowly getting used to this hugging thing, but there's still only so much I can take. I've never been an overly affectionate person. The only person I ever really _did _show affection to, royally screwed me. Literally.

"That must be August," I mutter, pulling away and striding toward the door, wiping under my eyes with the sleeve of my jacket as I open the door.

It's not August. It's Archie, shifting nervously from foot to foot. In his hand is a withered, folded piece of paper that he looks like he's been unfolding and refolding repeatedly. A light sheen of sweat glistens on his pale skin.

"Jesus, Archie," I gasp, dragging him inside, "You okay?"

"I…uh…" His eyes flit to Henry for a second and then to my parents. "Pin – August left this at the diner. Ruby just gave it to me. She seemed pretty upset, so I figured I would bring it on my way back to the office." Swallowing, he hands me the paper, which has August's tiny, masculine scrawl on it.

_Emma-_

_I just can't do it. Please don't hate me. I've always tried to do right by you. _

_I'm sorry. _

_-AWB_

"What is he talking about?" Archie asks, looking at me over his glasses. "I just got off the phone with Marco…he said August took off, packed a bag and just left."

"He was supposed to help me," I mutter, dropping the note and sitting at the counter with my head in my hands, "I'm looking for someone…and he knew where to find him. Now, I'm screwed."

"Who are you looking for?" Archie inquires cautiously, glancing at Henry, who is silent.

"Gold's son," I answer grimly, tiredly accepting a cup of tea from Mary Margaret and taking a sip.

"Oh, I see," Archie's voice is quiet, but he does not sound surprised, which is kind of weird to me, but I'm in no condition to care. August actually knows the guy…what he looks like, where he lives. What do I know about him?

He may or may not look like a three hundred year old drawing and he lives in New York. Wow. My first thought is to call his foster mom again, but she hasn't seen "Peter" in years and chances are the guy is about as slippery as his shady dad.

"Look, Emma…" Archie starts hesitantly, "There's some stuff you need to know about…August. You know, Pinocchio." He sighs and clasps his hands, "Pinocchio got into some trouble before he was turned into a real child by the Blue Fairy. He's always had a little trouble with lying and with temptation. But, what I'm about to tell you was not his fault."

"What is it, Archie?" David asks, leaning against the counter and putting his arm around Mary Margaret.

"We weren't…entirely…truthful when we told you there was only enough magic for one to come through the wardrobe," He blurts, looking more than a little sick to his stomach.

"What do you mean?" Mary Margaret's voice is soft, but full of suspicion. Her eyes are dark, almost as if she knows what's coming. And that's when I put it together. August and I came through that wardrobe together. Two of us came through. _We told you there was only enough magic for one to come through…_

The biggest betrayal of all. I didn't have to grow up alone in this world. I was forced to. I don't want to hear the explanation, because I know where it's going and I know how hard it's going to hit Mary Margaret and David.

_Which curse is worse?_

I realize I don't want them to know. I need to protect them from this, because despite all of the lying and manipulation that's happened to us, we're finally healing. I don't think I can stand to see that pain in their eyes now. So, I quickly reach across the table and put my hand over Archie's to stop him. As discreetly as I can, I give a slight shake of my head, and plead with my eyes. This is my secret…my burden to bear. These two have already risked everything to save my life. They gave up raising their own child so that everyone could be saved. It's time for me to give them _their_ best chance.

"Archie?" David urges, looking worriedly from me to Mary Margaret.

"They were right," I cut in, calling on every single power of bullshitting I've ever possessed, "There was only enough magic for one _adult_ person..." I avoid Archie's gaze as I go on, "But there was enough for _two_ children."

"What?" Mary Margaret asks in a hushed voice, "How do you know?"

"It was in the book," I lie swiftly, "They decided to put Pinocchio in the wardrobe with me so that I wouldn't have to be alone since I was a newborn." Henry says nothing, thankfully, but is watching me curiously because he knows I am so full of it, it's coming out my ears. I nod at him, letting him know that he's in on it. But oddly, I'm not worried about him. If anyone knows about keeping secrets, it's him. I don't know which Operation we're on now, but he's always got my back. And I love him for it.

All I know is, everyone has suffered enough. And, if I can spare one more person heartache by telling a small lie, then I don't care. Any parent would have done the same as Geppetto and as Snow White did for their child. I would have done it for Henry. It doesn't make the betrayal hurt less, but I understand it. And really, if it hadn't happened the way it had, there might be _no_ Henry. Despite the agony that led to his existence, I would do it all again in a heartbeat, knowing what I do about him.

He's the best thing I've ever done.

I'm not the reason the curse is broken…he is. Everything I did was because of him. So really, even though I am supposed to be the 'savior'…I know the truth; Henry is _my _savior. My only regret is that I haven't been here to see every smile. Every laugh. Every tear and scrape and nightmare. It frightens me how much he means to me after only one year. I can't imagine what it would have felt like after eleven. I love Henry as I've never loved anyone, not even the man who fathered him. And I did love his father with everything I had.

It just would have all been so much easier with him _there._ I always felt like anything was possible with Neal. Maybe, I would have believed faster.

_But how would you have found this place? _A small, nagging voice in the corner of my subconscious sneers, and I almost cringe, because I know it's right. I needed to lose Neal to find Storybrooke…and my parents…and Henry. Does it make what Neal did to me hurt any less? No. Not even a little. But, I'm no longer alone. I have friends. I have a home. I have a family…as cheesy and cliché as that sounds.

"August came through with me. He looked out for me for my entire life and made sure I knew to come back for you guys," I explain, leaving out the fact that he abandoned me and took off with a group of kids. That's not the important part right now.

"Which explains why he's grown," David nods, visibly relaxing and setting me at ease. Henry gives me a questioning look, but I shake my head to signal that now is not the time.

"Right," I agree, looking at Archie, who seems more than a little shell shocked. That's _one_ bullet dodged. "Look," I sigh agitatedly, "I have to call this guy back."

"You already have the address, Emma," David reminds me, "I still think it's a bad idea for you to go alone."

"And who would you suggest I take with me?" I ask, feeling very uncharitable at the moment. "Regina?"

"Emma," Mary Margaret interjects gently, and I can tell she is fighting every urge she has to be reasonable, "New York is not the safest place on a good day…and if this man is some sort of criminal, you should probably be careful. I mean, you did say he's changed his name what, like three times?"

"At least twice," I reluctantly allow, running a hand through my hair. "Look you guys," I start again, ignoring the awkward vibes oozing out of Archie, "I know you're worried, but the fact is, I can _handle_ this. I can do this in my sleep. I once took down a guy who was six foot seven and three hundred pounds. You just have to trust me." I drop a quick kiss on Henry's head, and cup his chin. "Take care of these two, okay? Make sure they don't burn the place down." He doesn't respond, but dashes into his bedroom, and I can hear it close behind him, making me feel horribly guilty. I turn to David and Mary Margaret. "We good?" Mary Margaret pulls me in for another quick hug.

"Go do what you have to do, Emma," She tells me resignedly, "But you come _back _to us_,_" She says fiercely. I smile, despite myself. When we let go, I nod to David and take the badge off of my belt. "Hold down the fort, 'kay." He takes the badge and wordlessly pulls me into yet another embrace. (Seriously, these people are killing me here.)

"Be careful," He whispers raggedly, causing a really big lump to form in my throat and prevent me from verbally responding, so I just nod, unblinking and willing my eyes not to overflow. Before I can pull away, David presses a kiss to my forehead, which is the most outwardly loving thing he's done to me.

"See ya," I manage to say, swallowing and meeting Archie's eyes, nodding toward the door and tearing my eyes away from them. Once in the hallway, Archie touches my arm.

"Why did you do that?" He asks, sounding pained, "Why didn't you let me tell them the truth?"

"For what?" I ask tiredly, "So they can have another betrayal to deal with?" I look into his eyes, tears forgotten. "It wasn't right what happened…but I understand it. _Believe _me." He looks down at his feet. "What do you know about Gold's son?" I demand to know, making him start in surprise.

"N-Nothing…"

"Bullshit. You weren't even surprised when I said that's who I'm looking for," My voice is low, full of warning, causing his hands to go up defensively.

"I just…when he thought August was his son, he came to me for advice. That's _all,_ Emma!" He promises, paling slightly. I glare into his eyes for a moment and can see he's telling the truth, so I relax.

"Okay," I breathe, feeling a little bit of tension melt away. "Sorry. If you see August, can you tell him he's an asshole for me?"

"Yeah," Archie chuckles, "Though I'm sure he knows. I know he has his problems, Emma, but I really do think he's a good guy."

"Me too," I answer through gritted teeth, "That's why I'm so irritated with him. He needs to stop running away from every problem he has!"

"Just remember," He murmurs softly, "he had to grow up alone too…everyone deals with life differently. Some of us are fighters…but, some of us flee. August isn't as strong as you are, Emma." His eyes fall to his watch and he gasps, "Oh no. I'm late for my session with Lucy!" He cries, looking at me. I stare blankly at him, as I have no idea who Lucy is. He doesn't offer an explanation either, only a quick apology before darting to his car. I shake my head, slipping into the driver's seat of mine and starting the engine. I glance up at Henry's bedroom window and feel a pang in my chest as I pull away from the curb. I hope he isn't too angry with me for leaving so soon after getting back. I hope someday he'll understand that this is all for him.

* * *

_It starts around three in the morning, the second I finally manage to get comfortable and close my eyes. I feel a warm trickle between my legs, and I wonder for a second if I've wet myself. Struggling to sit up, I brace myself against the wall and check my pants. This is too much to be me wetting myself and I'm guessing that the cramps I've been having since dinner aren't indigestion…he's coming. _

_Uh oh…_

_I try to alert the night guard at the end of the hall, and I'm greeting with a sharp, shooting pain in the small of my back, making me cry out. _

"_Help!" I yell, hoping she hears me. "Help me!" A few seconds later, three guards are at the door of my cell and I'm being ushered out in cuffs to be taken to the hospital. It hurts already, and I feel a sudden flash of panic, because this person that I've spent all of my time with for the past nine months will be gone tomorrow. I don't know him. I don't know his name or anything about him. But the thought of not having him with me anymore, makes me want to curl up and cry for days. But it doesn't change anything; an eighteen year old convict can't raise a kid with nothing but a stolen car and love. How could I ever be a mother when I never had one of my own? And maybe part of me is scared that I'm like she was and I'll get sick of him and leave him on the side of a road when things get rough. _

_I've made sure that will never happen to him. _

_I was approached by an adoption agency and assured that he was going to a very wealthy home and would be well taken care of. The records will be closed so that he'll never know about the girl who gave him up and the incredible shit fest that led to his birth. All he'll know is comfort and love with a family who wanted him. He won't ever have to deal with the flawed foster system of this country and the sick people who are part of it under the guise of caring about children. He will never feel like he doesn't belong anywhere, even though it kills me that he doesn't belong with me. That's why he can't ever know who I am, because if he ever did find me, I don't think I could give him up twice. _

_After thirteen hours of labor and the most excruciating pain, he finally comes at a healthy eight pounds, with a full head of dark, dark hair. I never take my eyes off of him, this nameless stranger who is the only family I have in this world, and watch them clean and wrap him, and then, of all things, the nurse brings him to me and places him in my arms as if it's the most natural thing in the world. I can only hold him with one arm since my other is handcuffed to the side of the hospital bed, but it's enough. He's sturdier than I thought he would be, and he's awake and staring expectantly up at me with these expressive eyes that seem to see right into my soul. My chest literally hurts, because even at less than an hour old, he looks exactly like Neal…and I hate Neal for that. _

"_Hey, kid," I say, relieved no one is in the room, save for a female guard near the door, though she's talking on the phone. "I don't know about you, but I am whipped." The baby scrunches his face a little, but he doesn't cry, which I am grateful for. "Listen, uh…I know you won't remember me, or this, but I just want you to know it's not that I don't want you, okay? I do. But, I still have five months left to serve, and I have no money and no one to take care of you until I'm out of prison. Some mom, huh? But, don't worry…I made sure you won't ever have to deal with the system like I did. This lady, she's…well, I don't know her or anything, but she really wants you and that's gotta count for something, right? She has money and a nice house. That's all I know, and I don't even think I'm supposed to know that. I know that we won't see each other again after this, and I have no idea who you'll become or even what your name will be, but just don't be like me or your dad, okay?" My eyes begin to sting and I can feel my resolve slipping, so I shake my head as if that's going to stop my tears. It doesn't. "I'm so sorry, kid," I sob, "I wish I had something to offer you, but I don't. You need your best chance. I'm not it." _

_An hour later, they come for him. The matronly lady from the adoption agency gingerly takes him from my arms and gives me an apologetic smile. That's when he starts to cry, and he doesn't stop as she carries him from the room and out of my life. _

* * *

I snap out of my thoughts when I see the sign up ahead that says _LEAVING STORYBROOKE._ I tense, waiting for the inevitable crash…or deer…or _something_ that will stop me from leaving, but nothing happens and I can see nothing but open road and miles of trees. I turn to look back in the rearview mirror and see through the back window the sign that says '_WELCOME TO STORYBROOKE._' The only thing I notice is the barely visible lavender mist that sits, unmoving at the border of the town.

One priority at a time, Emma.

How different would things have been if Henry hadn't come to my doorstep last August? If I had never found this town with these people? That's when reality hits me. I know nothing about this guy. I don't know what he looks like or even what kind of person he is. I mean, he's (allegedly) about three hundred years old…ish. As much as it bothers me to admit, I am really not looking forward to facing this one alone. Even though August is a shady little bastard sometimes, he doesn't put me on edge like Hook did. No one should ever be that cunning and sexy at the same time. It almost makes me thankful for my time in Phoenix. Almost. I caught Aurora staring at him a few times. A pang of sadness pierces me as I think of the two girls who helped us get home. I miss them. I know Mary Margaret does too and I really hope that they're safe.

"Well, we made it out of town!" A voice says from behind me, making me scream and slam on the brakes. Turning to look over my shoulder, I see him sitting there, giving me a mischievous little grin that he certainly didn't inherit from me. I sigh in frustration.

"_Henry!" _


End file.
